satisfy its
natural demand for clearness and practicality in the measures proposed,
and not to distract it and render it nugatory by the insubstantial
metaphysics of abstract policy. From the splitting of heads to the
splitting of hairs would seem to be a long journey, and yet some are
already well on their way to the end of it, who should be the leaders
of public opinion and not the skirmishing harassers of its march. It
would be well if some of our public men would consider that Providence
has saved their modesty the trial of an experiment in cosmogony, and
that their task is the difficult, no doubt, but much simpler and less
ambitious one, of bringing back the confused material which lies ready
to their hand, always with a divinely implanted instinct of order in
it, to as near an agreement with the providential intention as their
best wisdom can discern. The aggregate opinion of a nation moves
slowly. Like those old migrations of entire tribes, it is encumbered
with much household stuff; a thousand unforeseen things may divert or
impede it; a hostile check or the temptation of present convenience may
lead it to settle far short of its original aim; the want of some
guiding intellect and central will may disperse it; but experience
shows one constant element of its progress, which those who aspire to
be its leaders should keep in mind, namely, that the place of a wise
general should be oftener in the rear or the centre than the extreme
front. The secret of permanent leadership is to know how to be
moderate. The rashness of conception that makes opportunity, the
gallantry that heads the advance, may win admiration, may possibly
achieve a desultory and indecisive exploit; but it is the slow
steadiness of temper, bent always on the main design and the general
movement, that gains by degrees a confidence as unshakable as its own,
the only basis for permanent power over the minds of men. It was the
surest proof of Mr. Lincoln's sagacity and the deliberate reach of his
understanding, that he never thought time wasted while he waited for
the wagon that brought his supplies. The very immovability of his
purpose, fixed always on what was attainable, laid him open to the
shallow criticism of having none,--for a shooting star draws more eyes,
and seems for the moment to have a more definite aim, than a
planet,--but it gained him at last such a following as made him
irresistible. It lays a much lighter tax on the intellect, and pr